


Heart

by MisterStalker, tiny_freakin_head



Series: Classics [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gratuitous smut at the end, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, heart replacement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterStalker/pseuds/MisterStalker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_freakin_head/pseuds/tiny_freakin_head
Summary: It takes some discretion to earn a Spy's trust.





	Heart

 

Medic pulled the last of his tools from the autoclave and placed them on a stainless steel tray. He wiped down the table where the Soldier had sat. The next appointment wasn't for another 10 minutes so he had some time to finish making notes in the Soldier's file before the Spy came in. If, indeed, he came. Several teammates had tried to avoid their physicals. He sat and started noting details in Soldier's file—in English for the benefit of the Administrator.

Spy passed through the waiting room directly into the examination room. He didn't want to wait for the Medic to have the advantage. Perhaps the Medic was a teammate, not an enemy, but a Medic can get close enough to notice the needle marks of insulin shots to control diabetes, or worse, his ischemic heart threatening to strangle itself of blood and oxygen. A Medic could unmask the immortal spectre haunting the enemy team's shadows and expose a common man with weaknesses. The Spy was careful to be guarded during medical examinations. He wouldn't risk losing his career as a Spy due to some man in a sterile room labeling him as unfit.

Like a spectre, the only sound to follow his entrance was a quiet breath of air as the bay doors shut. He stood silently and moved a single exposed blue eye over the room, taking in the details of this Medic's tools before settling behind the Medic's back where he sat at his desk.

He cleared his throat. "It appears you are ready to see me now." The Spy was pleased with himself, if he interrupted the Medic's concentration maybe the man would be distracted and less thorough in examinations.

The Medic did look up at him, glowering over his mask. “You’re early. Sit.” He gestured to the table, continuing his notes until he was satisfied he’d written down everything important—in short form. Though he wanted the Spy to know he was not to be rushed, he also didn’t want to push his patience too far. He wasn’t exactly intimidated, but he knew the men he worked with were dangerous. Better to keep them on his side as much as possible.

Spy was uncomfortable on the table as he was left there. He expected immediate attention. He expected to run the appointment. To wait on the medic set the authority of the room in the Medic's hands again. He breathed calmly, as possible, to control himself and maintain his disguise of perfect health, a sheer shield hiding his insulin marks, old wounds, and scars.  

Once he was finished, Medic grabbed the Spy’s file and opened it. There was very little information to be found in it. Many of the usual lines had been redacted. He pursed his lips under his mask. Useless. He put it down and looked his patient over.

The Spy couldn't see his dossier, but how little the Medic read it made him believe there was almost no information to be seen. No age, no country, no information that wasn't plainly apparent already: The Spy, an adult male perhaps of 30 years. White, but warm-coloured skin by nationality, or by tanning in the desert sun? One blue eye, the other eye however was a mystery, covered by a night-vision lens.

He smirked as he let the Medic inspect him at a distance. "If we could complete this appointment soon. As I'm sure you do, I do have plenty to keep me busy before the battles begin."

The Spy stayed still and calm on the table. He was quiet at least, unlike some of the other men the Medic had seen today. He seemed fit and able, just as the rest of the men he’d seen had. Though likely there were old wounds and other things hiding beneath the surface. And being a Spy, it was likely that he was going to be very good at hiding them.

“Yes. Please remove your lens and hood and we can begin.” He moved in closer, onto the little step that gave him the height advantage he needed. He was about average height for a Japanese man, which was short in this team of men. “Do you have any health concerns you’d care to share with me, before we begin?” He was sure he’d get nothing out of him, but it was worth trying.

He could expect to be told to undress. It was a common request in an examination, but not something he wanted to do. "I'm sure that isn't necessary," he offered. "Consider, I will enter battle like this, as I am dressed. An inspection of my health should include all of this, the lens, the hood, my clothes themselves." The Spy knew it was a weak argument, he didn't expect it to work, but he hoped that with confidence and a proud tone he might convince the Medic. "I am healthy enough, of course, I won't require much time from you."

“I will require you to strip down entirely. As a courtesy, I asked you to remove your hood and lens first. As your Medic, it is important I know about your health. I know as a Spy, you will want to tell me nothing. I will keep this as fast and painless as possible,” Medic said firmly.

The Spy frowned beneath his mask. He didn't like this result. Yet he offered a ‘defeated’ and amicable sigh and without resistance he removed the lens, and hood after he made his face neutral once more. If he bent in soon enough then maybe the Medic would not suspect he was hiding anything, but only being secretive as a spy is known to be. He folded the hood and lens head-band and placed it on the table beside him. He put his placid blue eyes on the Medic and studied those keen, dark Asian eyes. The Medic's own mask hid enough of his face to hide whatever the Spy would want to read about the man's temperament and personality so far. Unfair, he thought, but he was a skilled spy and the challenge to decipher the Medic was not beyond him.

The Medic grabbed his ophthalmoscope to take a look at his eyes. Damn these tall men, he thought, eyes steely. He had to stand on his toes to get a good look at him. It would be far easier to get up on the table next to him, but hardly dignified.

His newly uncovered eye was what interested him the most. It was likely the man wore that lens quite a bit, since there was a bit of a tan line around it and he could be found wearing it inside, during the day. Wearing something like that was likely to cause laziness in the covered eye and it was important that a man in their profession had good depth perception. Using his light, he directed him to follow it with his eyes. The weaker eye drifted slightly and the two eyes didn’t work in tandem the way they ought to. “How long have you been wearing this lens?” he asked, curiously.

‘For the length of my career,’ he almost answered. But that was too much information regarding his career as a spy. He blinked his eyes to clear the light from the inside of his eye-lids. "Some years, sometimes more than other times." He stalled, wondering why he is asking and suddenly self-conscious. He was unaware of the weakening muscles in that eye but assured of what he did know, "My vision is perfect. It is not a corrective lens. It permits me to see in the dark, which is, of course, useful to a spy."

“Mm,” the Medic murmured. He gestured across the room at a chart of letters. He got the Spy to read as much as he could with each eye individually. The left eye was by far the weaker, as he had expected. He made a note of it in his file and they continued on. He did the rest of the head and neck exam. His ears, nose, thyroid, arteries, etc, all seemed fine.

“Please strip.” Some of his teammates had stripped to nothing, others had stripped to their underwear. He didn’t correct either of them. If they had an STD, they could ask him for medications or treatment themselves.

The Spy was thinking continuously about his eyes now. It was a new thing he did not expect. He was so careful to hide his weaknesses, but he suspected he had a weakness he never knew to hide. He stood up from the table to more comfortably undress.

Despite the step the Medic used, he was still much taller than him, and he noticed it. He looked into his eyes again. Their team held some short men. Simo was very small and slight, certainly not a man who could fight anyone face-to-face. But the Medic seemed, impossibly, even smaller. He noticed he was staring and he made an excuse, "You have a gown I can wear, and some privacy so I can undress?"

"I'm afraid the gown would only be in the way." Still, he turned and took up his file again, noting down the results of the tests he'd performed so far. That was the amount of privacy he could have in the exam room. He did not trust Spy to be alone in the room.

The Spy stared at the Medic's back with a stubborn nature. It felt almost like an interrogation, and despite his effort to keep his secrets, the Medic was pulling information from him and his body. But, unlike the other mercenaries, he would not guess at what he wanted and offer it up to him. He asked, "How much do I undress for your exam? Remove my issued uniform?"

"You may keep your undergarments on." He grabbed a few of his tools, stubbornly keeping his back to him.

Permission to keep his undergarments on. That wasn't useful to him at all. What his underwear covered was maybe the only thing he wasn't afraid to let people see. Of course, he would keep the small bit of privacy he was given, but it wasn't what he wanted. He could not hide his disguise kit in his underwear. He was reluctant to remove his clothes. But if he didn't do so now, the Medic might turn and watch him undress. He preferred to have some dignity, and so he removed his clothes, piece by piece, and placed them on the table with his hood and lens.

He sucked in a breath of air as he sat on the table again. He found it to be much colder now, wearing a lot less clothing. "Are these exams necessary to be so thorough? We are hired already on our performance, without consideration of our health..."

"Yes, they are necessary. The ah—” he struggled briefly for the English word, "technology here is far more advanced than most hospitals. If there are any health problems, I may be able to do something that was impossible before you arrived here." He turned once Spy was undressed, taking his stethoscope and placing it on his chest. He listened to his heart and lungs, carefully. "Do you smoke?"

The Spy hesitated when he said that. The sense of distrust the team held for the Medic was too strong to believe the Medic wasn't simply here to poke them with needles, prod them with sticks, and tell them they were sick. But he wanted to hope that maybe if the doctor discovered something it would be repaired in him, not reported. He never considered it previously, even for a moment, that the medical examination might be used to heal the mercenaries and make them stronger in battle.

He was slow to answer the question, distracted by his thoughts. "Er... no, not regularly. I only smoke sometimes, for leisure or socializing."

"Mm," he said again. His lungs sounded a little congested, and there was a very slight skip to his heartbeat, just enough to cause a little suspicion. He paced around Spy and listened to his lungs from behind. The same. It could be a cold he was recovering from, or something more serious. He would look into that more in his blood tests.

He continued his tests. His blood pressure was normal, and as the cuff inflated, he gave Spy a good once over. He was fit. He clearly he had the body of a man who ran and climbed and fought. He was all lean muscle. There were scars here and there, some from knives, or bullets, or burns. None looked too bothersome to him now, though the Medic carefully probed a few of the larger scars, making sure that the Spy knew he was going to touch him before he did.

"You look like you eat and exercise well." He didn’t have much fat on him, and though with his height he did look thin, he was certainly more muscular than the Medic himself. "Do you drink often?"

He appreciated the comments to his physique. He certainly considered himself to be fit, and was glad the Medic noted the same. At least he wasn't finding shortcomings on the spy from head to toe. The Spy gave a wry grin and glanced at the Medic. "No, the prohibition in America is sure of that." Of course, he couldn't blame him for asking. Greg certainly found a way to smuggle plenty of wine to the base, the prohibition did very little to slow the Frenchman down.

The Medic kept forgetting about the prohibition here. He had never been much for alcohol before and now that he was in a place where it was unlikely he could find any sake, he wouldn’t bother drinking. Even if it was legal. It occurred to him after a silence that perhaps this was something he ought to share with his teammates, to tell them little things about himself, but it was difficult for him. He was used to being quiet and now his opening to share seemed to have passed.

“I hope you’re not bothered by needles,” he remarked, getting out his kit. “Blood sample next.”

He took an alcohol swab and rubbed it against his inner elbow, hoping that this wouldn’t be fight like the last few had been. The Scout had nearly hit him in the face at the prick of the first needle. The Spy seemed more in control and he hoped that meant he wasn’t going to flinch or complain.

The Spy was calm, certainly calmer than the Scout or other excitable team members. He was too accustomed to needles to be fearful of them, or flinch or grimace at all when he saw one poised. Even if he didn't trust doctors very much, during his career as a Spy he had experienced much worse than needles from people worse than doctors.

The Spy wanted to argue on this point also. But it was better not to. If he argued, the doctor might request the administrator to order that he submit a blood test, and then they would expect him to be hiding something. No, much easier to offer his arm now and exchange the blood later. If he was agreeable now, the doctor wouldn’t be suspicious if the blood test revealed only a healthy man in his prime. So he did exactly that. He allowed access to his arm and he nodded. "Of course. The exam is very thorough, as you said... When do you expect to have results for the test?" Knowing this might tell him how long he had to find blood to switch.

“I have follow-up appointments in one week, so sometime before that.” Medic responded. He was quite quick with the needle and soon enough had a few vials of Spy’s blood.

He pulled out a different kit with two more needles. There were two vaccines for each teammate. One was a simple shot that all their teammates were getting, it would immunize them against diphtheria and tetanus.

The second was something he had concocted himself. It would boost their immune system and protect them from the Contagion Kit that he’d made up to cause damage and panic among the enemy. It was highly infectious and deadly, and it was important that his team wouldn’t be affected.

He swabbed Spy’s arm, noting as he did the faint scarring of injection marks on the man’s abdomen. His first thought was insulin. There wasn’t much else that got injected into the abdomen. Perhaps a pain killer for abdominal pain, or a recreational drug, but that didn’t seem likely. He made a silent note to himself to check his blood sugar. If he knew about it and was handling it well, then there was no need to make a fuss about it, but it was better he know, in case he took a turn for the worse or stopped taking his insulin regularly. Perhaps he’d mention it to him in his follow-up appointment.

The team was all due to see him one more time before battle, after he’d done all their blood tests and urinalysis. Most of the second appointments would be very short, he hoped. Most of the men seemed healthy.

Spy nodded to the arrangement he had, his vaccines. "What is this? What I read from the administrator only mentioned a single vaccine."

“This is for diptheria and tetanus.” The first injection was easy, he was done in an instant. He hesitated with the second. “This is to inoculate you against my Contagion Kit, so when I poison enemies in the field, it won’t effect you. I’ve had one myself. It’s perfectly safe.”

The Spy pulled his arm away slowly, expressing concern as he revealed it was his own creation. He looked at him with consideration then asked, "You tested the vaccine on yourself? ... And you tested the contagion kit also, with your vaccine?"

“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s very safe. For us.” He raised the needle with a quizzically lifted eyebrow, waiting for a nod from his patient.

Spy stared at him with penetrating eyes, watching him for any indication he was lying. He wished he did not wear a mask, to more easily read the man's face. But his shoulders were relaxing and he lowered his arm, not offering it yet, but almost ready. "Are there any bad effects to the dose?"

“The Engineer reacted with mild dizziness. Otherwise no one has had any struggle with it. However, not having the dose would be a problem on the battlefield. Contagion Kit is lethal. Only a trip through the respawn system will cure it so far, beyond being inoculated.”

The Spy grunted quietly and nodded to approve, finally offering his arm completely for the doctor to provide the vaccine. It wasn't too hard to believe, this fit perfectly with the doctor’s earlier statement, that he planned to fix them however the mercenaries needed, to be more suited to battle.

The Medic gave him the last injection quickly. He’d had to give a double dose to the Heavy. He was so enormous he’d been worried it wouldn’t work at all.

“I will also need a urine sample. There is a bathroom through that door.” He handed him a sterile cup, then began labelling his blood samples.

This was easy enough to refuse for now. He smiled and set the cup down on top of his clothing. "I'm not able to use this. Unfortunately, the desert leaves me very dry. I don't remember to drink enough water. I'll return this later, whenever I am able." The Spy planned it out now: Returning the cup was the perfect excuse to be in the Medic's lab, even at a bizarre hour when he was certain to snoop without interruption.

The Medic sighed, but relented. “Fine. But please, return it as soon as you’re able. I have a lot of testing to do.”

The Spy nodded. "Of course. As soon as I'm able." He rubbed a thumb over the bandage holding down cotton on his arm, "The examination is over, I imagine?" He didn't need to wait for the answer, it seemed clear, the Spy stood and unfolded his clothing. He was eager to go pester Greg to be sober, drink some water, and piss into a sterile cup so that he could return to the lab to switch blood samples and investigate the Medic.

“Yes, we’re through. If you feel any change in your health, please let me know.” He went back to taking notes. He had a couple more appointments today and he was hoping they’d be quick and painless.

 

*

 

The Classic Spy lurked in the dark halls of the base at night, after his teammates slept. The lights were out, but this didn't bother him, he could easily make use of his night vision lens. He didn't expect to see a stream of light beneath the doors to the medic's lab, but it didn't surprise him. One mercenary fell asleep seated at a table in the kitchen, he knew plenty of these men were ones to work themselves to exhaustion and fall to sleep where they were. The spy opened the doors silently and swept a monitoring glance over the room.

He heard Katsu working somewhere in the room, obscured by the columns or racks of equipment. The spy was not intimidated, and crept further into the room. He scoured for the location of the blood samples and brought out the duplicates to switch, palming them in his hand. If everything followed the plan he anticipated, he believed himself a good enough spy to switch blood vials, even from the same desk the Medic worked at, taking advantage of his level of concentration.

Unfortunately for him, the Medic saw his shadow move in the dark outside the small pool of light on his desk. "Spy." He frowned at him, after craning his neck to see him. His heart had skipped a beat for a second, he’d been far more startled than his expression let on.

The spy scowled, but took advantage of the Medic’s mask being off to study his face. The eyes were the same but without the large and bulky mask his face seemed almost delicate. He had a wide scar splitting his upper lip on the left side.

The best option now seemed to be boldly continuing on. He opened his hand and showed the Medic the glass vials of blood as he approached his desk. He removed the blood samples he collected from him and placed the new ones on the table. "I'm bringing in my samples. No one else will find out, of course, hm?" The man was so small, so delicate looking. Surely Spy could intimidate him. He leaned over the desk as he exchanged the vials, looking down at the Medic.

At his request, the Medic laughed softly. Though he could see Spy testing him, he wouldn’t let him threaten him. "You're welcome to take your blood back. I've already tested it."

His smile faltered. Maybe he was bluffing, however? Or maybe he did not read the results yet. "Oh? Where are the results?"

"In your file." He had copied them in his tiny, neat script. He'd been correct about his diabetes, and there was something else wrong, but he'd have to run a few more tests to find out exactly what. "We are on the same team. My knowledge of your health will not be shared. I only want to know what to expect. Would you consent to another test at a later date? It's non-invasive."

Spy hesitated, considering it. Again, he made the suggestion of helping him, seeking to care for him medically rather than to give the information to the administrator. He reminded himself, there is no cure for diabetes, and no cure for a bad heart. If his files revealed this, surely the administrator would look for a spy perfectly well suited for combat. The Spy went to the cabinets to find his file and search for his paperwork. "I think you will find that my blood has no indication of illness." The glass vials in his hand clinked gently. "There will be nothing to further investigate." He removed the papers detailing the blood work and offers him a small consolation. "If my performance falters, you will be the first doctor I come to. But until then, I am sure we will find my performance to be perfect.”

"I expected no more," he admitted. Still, he was sure that with the technology here he could fix his heart. Infection and death were hardly a problem with the medigun. He could even be awake for the procedure. "I keep insulin on hand," he said, as though remarking on the weather. "As for your heart," he shrugged. He didn't know exactly what was wrong, only the origin of the problem. "I also found your left eye to be weaker than your right. No doubt from using your lens so often. If it troubles you, I may be able to help. If not, then as far as I'm concerned your eyes are perfect."

The Spy stalled again, letting the information run through his mind. The Medic was making himself trustworthy. Clearly, he was offering to him the option to seek help, or the option that he care for himself, but either way it seemed he was keeping his medical results secret. He nodded as he considered his options, rubbing his thumb and fingers together through the paperwork in his hand while he thought.

"I'll see you next week," he answered, referring to the follow-up exam. With those final words, he disappeared into the base again. He never made the switch between the blood vials, leaving his blood with him for a week longer.

 

*

 

Through the week there was no change in the team. The Spy’s secrets were kept and there was no call from the Administrator or her people.

The next week, the Spy appeared in the medical room again, inviting himself, again, some minutes early. He found Medic ready for the regular interruptions now, with mask in place once again.

He circled the laboratory this time, more comfortable in the space and ready to look over the room more. He circled the table and sat where he was placed for his first exam. "I didn't hear anything from the Administrator. I assume they received what they expected: Perfect health, fit for battle." He appreciated that his secret was kept. "What is your additional test?" He wasn't sure if the Medic would remember what he mentioned before, in the dark. "What can you do to test my heart, while remaining non-invasive?"

“It’s very simple!” The Medic was quite pleased that he’d come up with a solution that would satisfy his curiosity without actually asking Spy any questions. He was likely to downplay any symptoms he had, if he even told him about them at all. He had a treadmill in the back of the exam room and he strode over to it, waiting for Spy to join him. He picked up a few electrodes. “If you would remove your shirt, please, and step onto the treadmill.” It wasn’t going yet. As soon as he heard his heartbeat while he was under stress he’d have a far better idea of what was wrong.

The Spy let him set up his test, watching him carefully and imagining what each part would do to answer what questions he had. In the end, he found it amenable, and agreed that it was certainly not invasive or alarming to him. Medic’s beliefs were correct, he would get much more information from this than asking him questions. After all, who can trust the answers a spy gives? The Spy waited for the treadmill to start, and managed the speeds easily. He was fit and active, but his heart forbid the same activity that the Scout could manage. He breathed harder, faster. If he were running in battle, before now he would hide in the shadows. Finally, he stepped to the edge of the treadmill and held the hand rails for support, stopping himself and taking time to breathe.

The Medic watched him run, keeping an eye on the monitors and noting down each irregular beat and skip of his heart. Once he was finished, he told him his sobering diagnosis. "You have cardiomyopathy, heart disease. Though respawn and the medigun will certainly slow the effects, I believe I can perform a surgery to replace the malfunctioning valve." Or perhaps the whole heart. Luckily he could easily get a few bodies shipped here for parts. "Please understand that my work here is to make you stronger, not to dismiss you from work."

The Spy scowled at the ground, exhausted, without breath, and angry to hear the diagnosis. But his offer to help got his attention. "Surgery for the heart? To replace it? How is that possible?" He glanced briefly around the room, unwilling to be gullible. "Is the technology here truly capable of surgery like that?"

"We can practically live forever.” He nodded. "You've heard of Australium?" It was a key part of the medigun and respawn itself.

The Spy nodded. He was hired to smuggle Australium previously and understood how greatly valued it was, but he could not believe it was the secret to living forever. "Australium can do that?" He mulled over the thought for a moment longer, "You can do that? Did you ever do something like this before?"

"I would not start with you, I would have many tests to do first, but living tissue stitches itself back together with the medigun, and if anything goes wrong there is always respawn." He sat at his desk, turning his chair to watch Spy. "Australium has extreme regenerative powers, and the technology that uses it is remarkable.”

Spy had to chuckle now. He appreciated that Medic was honest. He was not trying to pressure him into a procedure, he was not the lab rat. He was genuinely planning how to improve his team and remove their weaknesses. Remarkably, he convinced him to trust him. He moved from not willing to remove his mask the previous week, to agreeing to let him open his chest. "Is there time to do this before the battles begin?"

"No," he said honestly. "I will let you know when I am ready, but it may be some weeks." He didn't want to rush and have any mistakes. Spy was warming up to him and he wanted to keep it that way. "I know you will be wearing your lens frequently, but there is the possibility of healing your eye as well, eventually."

Spy stepped off of the treadmill entirely now and removed the wires from his chest. He didn't mind waiting a few weeks, this would give him more time to be certain of his trust for the Medic. Spy nodded, "I wouldn't mind improving my eye." He still insisted he has perfect vision, but secretly he knew he had headaches when he removed the lens. Mild headaches, as if everything he was seeing was just the slightest bit off. He knew it could become worse with time, fixing it now was certainly better. "I'll see you again when you're ready to perform the procedure. I'll make myself easy for you to find."

"Thank you.” That was all he could hope for.

 

*

 

Spy let himself into the medical bay early. He knocked on the door as he entered: a courtesy and a sign of peace to clearly not sneak up on the Medic. "I learned some packages were delivered to you today. I suspect they are the materials you need for the surgery we discussed."

The Spy was dressed almost casually. Although not dressed in all the gear and straps he wore in battle, he was clearly still well prepared. Cloth covered his lower face and a lens covered one eye. His shirt, however, was simple, and easy to remove for surgery.

The Medic looked up from cataloging his newly received packages. Everything was as he'd wanted it; he'd gotten a recently dead young man shipped to them. It was easier to remove the parts he wanted herself, to be sure it was done correctly. "I did," he confirmed. He had already cracked the corpse's ribs and was dressed for surgery. It had been a few months since he'd spoken to Spy originally about heart surgery. He'd had plenty of testing to do. The most difficult thing was finding the proper test subjects, but he had only to ask for an enemy to be captured. If it didn't work, respawn would take him. If it did, he would put him through respawn anyway.

"You look prepared.” He nodded for him to sit. "How are you feeling?"

The Spy's single pale eye caught view of the cracked ribs cage and he resisted a shudder. He was nervous only because such a procedure was so new and foreign. He reminded himself that Medic assured, if anything went wrong, he could go through respawn and return mostly unblemished, only some pink scars on his surface from where he was cut open. He nodded to acknowledge the doctor. "I'm well, your bedside manner is appreciated. I trust you're ready?" He sat on the edge of the operating table.

Medic nodded. "Remove your shirt and lay down." He gathered his tools and the medigun, giving him a little time and privacy to do so. He would leave the man's heart in his chest until it was time to put it in Spy's. "Would you prefer to be awake?" he checked. It seemed like something the Spy might like to decide for himself.

The spy did not expect the offer. He met his eyes and expected some clue that he was joking. "Awake?" The heart surgery seemed impossible to him. But to be awake during the surgery... he was sure the Medic was teasing him. But his expression showed no humour. "Awake, but without pain, correct?" He nodded and placed his folded shirt aside. The spy experienced broken ribs before. The pain was immense and he did not want to experience it again- assuming broken ribs came before heart surgery.

“Of course, no pain,” he assured him. “You might feel some odd sensations but it will mostly be pressure. I understand if you’d feel safer awake, but it will be disturbing, I’m sure, to watch.”

"And fascinating also, I'm sure, to see a skilled master at work." He laid down onto the operating table. "If I find the view overwhelming, I'll look away." He breathed in and out quickly one time to prevent a shudder from the chill of the table.

Medic couldn’t help a smile at the compliment, though it was crooked, only showing ever so slightly on the unblemished side of his lips. Of course, this was advanced beyond any of his peers, but he couldn’t take all the credit. The medigun was an amazing machine and allowed him to do all kinds of things no doctor would ever even dream of. Once Spy was settled, he turned on the medigun. This one had many more settings than his field medigun. Settings he and the Engineer had tweaked together. The lever was pulled to a surgical setting; it would eliminate pain and not stitch together any wounds created, but stem the flow of blood.

The Medic’s heart was racing. He couldn’t help his excitement. Once this was done, Spy would no longer suffer from fatigue or shortness of breath, no longer find himself dizzy or struggling with chest pain after a run. He’d be even more of a force to be reckoned with in battle.

The Spy breathed calmly and watched politely. He wondered how closely to watch, how was polite? As soon as he began to open his skin apart, he was stunned breathless. He felt nothing physical, but seeing his body open up without blood or pain was unnerving. When he opened his rib cage with a loud crack he resisted a startled jump and looked to the ceiling. The Medic was right to be cautious, watching surgery performed on the self was not for the faint of heart.

He worked quickly, pulling the healthy heart out first before taking Spy’s. It was only a minute before he had things lined up again. He wasn’t entirely sure what Spy would experience without a heart, but knew it would be quick. He flicked the switch on the medigun to allow healing and just as he’d hoped, his new heart was accepted without trouble. Now he only had to fix his ribs and change his respawn data.

The spy glanced down as the medigun came on. He could see a glimpse of his heart pulsing and lungs breathing. He looked to the Medic’s face and raised a brow. "It is successful? You did it?" The Medic did the impossible and Spy’s voice reflected his amazement.

“I did,” he smiled down at him as he closed him up, letting the medigun heal him completely. A few pink scars remained. They would fade eventually. “You might feel ...strange.” He had no idea how it would feel, to be honest. “Let me know if there is any pain or side effects. I will let you have until tonight before I change your respawn data, just in case it is uncomfortable.”

The Spy sat and massaged a hand on his chest. He grinned with confidence. "Do you mind if I take this and test it? I'd like to see what difference a perfect heart makes."

“Of course,” he said. “Come back this evening and let me know.”

The Spy dressed himself quickly enough, glancing once again at his fully healed chest before closing his shirt. He looked at the Medic and almost offered anything he can do to repay his work. He nodded in place of a handshake or wave, "I'll see you this evening, Katsu."

He nodded back, beginning his clean up. Spy had used his name. This seemed like a positive change overall. This entire procedure had called for a lot of trust and he felt as though they were starting to understand each other better. He found he liked Spy, even if he could be difficult to work with as a Medic.

 

*

 

The Spy went to his room to collect his harness, ropes, and grappling hook. A fast and acrobatic exercise in the dust bowl was enough to test the doctor's work. And if anything happened, if it failed, respawn would collect him without a problem. But when he went to his room for his supplies, he noticed Greg. A new idea came to him. He cleared his throat to get the man's attention then smiled. "Do you have any plans for tonight, Greg?"

“No more than my usual plans.” He smiled back, reaching for Spy to give him whatever affection he’d allow. “What are you thinking?”

Spy slipped into the man's arms with grace. He was glad the man was so forthcoming with affection, although the spy considered himself the best to read expressions and feelings, there was something charming that Greg wore his feelings clearly bared. His hands moved up Greg's back like a gentle stroke, "I think..." and then down his back firm and open, warm palms pressed their bodies closer "I'd like to take you for a ride tonight."

Greg grinned widely, “That sounds like the best plan for tonight,” he agreed, he pressed a kiss to Spy’s covered shoulder. “ _Now_ tonight? Or do I have to wait?”

Spy laughed, it would be cruel to make such a suggestion and then make the mercenary wait. "Now, because no plans tonight will interrupt us." The taller, slimmer man hummed at the pleasant kiss on his shoulder. Nimble hands pressing Greg close gripped his shirt and pulled it up to expose him. Well-groomed nails scraped Greg's back subtly through the material, hinting at growing passion. "We're overdressed. Let's get all of these clothes out of the way."

Greg couldn’t help but agree, stripping off his shirt quickly, his pants and undergarments soon to follow. He wrapped Spy up in his arms as soon as he was nude, both helping and hindering in Spy’s attempts to undress in his passion.

Charmed by the enthusiasm, Spy did not resist the wrap. He unfastened his belt and removed his night-vision head equipment. Then Spy pressed against his partner's body, nudging him to the bed. He wasn't a strong enough man to truly move the thicker, sturdier mercenary. But he doubted Greg would resist a show of eagerness

Greg let Spy nudge him back onto their bed, drawing him down with him into a heated kiss and grind.

Spy responded quickly to the grinding hips. His growing erection prodded at Greg through his trousers. In the bed he broke away from the persistent embrace to unfasten his trousers and bare his cock. Spy gripped his cock in one hand and pumped it, to bring it up to its full length. Often, when Spy had his way, he made their intimate moments long and slow, never to let himself become too out of breath or exhausted. But now he felt a new heart beat hard and steady and boldly in his chest, and he wanted to test it. "My dear, maybe we skip the foreplay and romance this time. You seem ready to go." He nodded to Greg's fully erect naked cock.

Greg would normally protest skipping romance and foreplay, but seeing Spy so undone and eager was a treat in itself and he wasn’t willing to lose their momentum. “How do you want me?” he breathed, between pressing his lips to Spy’s skin. He couldn’t help his roving hands massaging at his lover’s lean muscle.

Spy answered, and catered to the man's passionate nature without slowing down, "I want you like the desert wants the rain." He kissed Greg's collar bone as he adjusted to put himself between his strong thighs. "I want you drunk with pleasure. And I want you fucked senseless." He adds with deeper, lusty tones in his words. His long firm fingers move down Greg's flanks to lift his legs and put himself in their grip.

Greg groaned, “I thought you said _no_ romance, my love. And yet you give me poetry!” He was completely enamoured with Spy’s quick and sudden passion for him, it was an exciting spur of the moment and he adored when Spy catered to his far less stoic nature in bed. He wrapped his legs around Spy, not too tightly, allowing for some preparation and movement; however his lover chose.

Spy grinned as his lover complimented his ‘poetry’. "I can't help myself at times." A long arm stretched up to the nightstand and retrieved their lube. He smeared the material on his fingertips and massaged Greg's crevice with graceful but insistent movements. Spy bowed his head to move his nose and lips over Greg's chest. The heat of his lover's body was like the glowing side of a candle. He breathed in deeply and his cock throbbed when the rich scent of the man hit him. Spy pushed the tips of two fingers into the mercenary, slow at first but sliding deeper when he met no resistance.

Greg bit his lip, muffling the deep groans that praised Spy’s attentions. He spread his legs wider, drawing Spy in closer with one of them. “You’re so eager tonight,” he gasped, “I adore it. I adore you.” The press of Spy’s fingers brought up sweet sparks of pleasure, making Greg’s back arch over the bed.

The spy almost purred with excitement and curled his fingers inside Greg's body. "My visit with the Medic went well, it's something to celebrate with enthusiasm." He pumped his fingers in his partner and spread them to test Greg's body. "Are you ready for me?" He lifted his chin to meet Greg's eyes.

Greg’s face was red, he was breathing hard. He nodded emphatically at Spy’s question. Though he wasn’t entirely sure how something medical had gotten his Spy in the mood, that was alright. Greg locked eyes with his lover, making a soft keening sound.

Spy withdrew his fingers, eager to be inside his partner. He collected more lubricant and slicked his cock then introduced his tip to Greg's entrance. He stretched his long and lithe body over Greg's muscular form, bringing them face to face. He inhaled deeply and held his breath in as he sheathed himself fully inside. Spy nuzzled his face into Greg's neck to release the groan burning his lungs. One of his hands gripped Greg's thigh, keeping the leg wrapped around him.

Greg arched his back up over the bed, pupils expanding to take over his irises as Spy’s cock slid home in him. “Yes—!” he cried with a gasp cutting his word short. His strong legs wrapped tight around Spy, pulling him deeper. He loved when they fucked like this, face to face. Spy could school his expression through most everything but not this. It was lovely to see him raw like that.

As Greg expected, the Spy's trained stoicism broke with every thrust. His eyebrows came together, wrinkling in concentration and faltering to weakened pleasure, his eyes half lidded but deep and full of life. His mouth opened further to moan when Greg's thighs squeezed him and encouraged him deeper, encouraging him to quicken his speed. Spy's sex calls were far quieter, certainly never heard through a wall or door, but every moan was wholly for Greg's ears only, when he growled his partner's name, it was a tone that only Greg knew.

Greg felt that humming warmth building up in his gut, spreading through his body in jolts. He couldn’t help letting out his confessions of love to Spy, telling him how much he adored seeing him like this, how well he was going to fuck him next time. Greg’s face flushed all the way down to his chest and his breaths came short and hard. Spy calling his name always got to him, but he wanted to last just a little longer for his lover.

Spy's breaths came heavier and harder. A hint of a victorious smile turned the corners of his lips as he found no need to slow his vigorous pace; his heart beat solid in his chest. The verbal praise and the physical responses from his lover pushed him to his limits quickly. A hand, fisted in sheets, quickly released to hold the back of Greg's head, tangled in his hair. He bowed Greg's head down and pressed their temples together. Spy's hot breath hit Greg's neck, his rugged growl went directly to his ear. Spy tried to resist longer and savour the sweet pleasure but finally he surrendered and ejaculated hard into his partner.

Greg cried out under Spy, fingernails digging into Spy’s back as he felt his lover’s quick pace finally ease as he came in him. He came across his own stomach, with a groan. He breathed hard for some time before finally pressing adoring kisses to Spy’s cheek and neck. “My wonderful, handsome, exquisite Spy,” he praised. “You have so much energy tonight!”

The Spy bit his lip and groaned, overwhelmed by the sensation on his tender organ when Greg squeezed and orgasmed as well. Spy sighed with content and withdrew his cock, but he remained happily embraced in Greg's legs and stretched along his body. Greg was right, spy had more energy and stamina than he expected. He breathed with ease, without pain in his chest, and he felt no weakness. He felt as though Katsu had made him immortal.

Spy soaked up the praise from his lover. "Expect that to continue. The Medic helped me with something, I expect to have more stamina in battle, and equally, more energy in our bedroom." Spy was drunk with pleasure and relaxed down onto Greg. He forgot that Greg orgasmed between their bodies and smeared the semen between their stomachs, unaware.

His heart beat slowly in his chest.

  



End file.
